


Living like a ghost, you walk by everyone you know

by dimensional_ghost



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Chris is a good friend, Dreams, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Nightmares, SPOILERS!!!, Violence, i just love end roll ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimensional_ghost/pseuds/dimensional_ghost
Summary: AU where Russell fails to finish himself off after the True Ending and Chris tries to be a good friend and be there for him.





	Living like a ghost, you walk by everyone you know

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics from Friend, Please by Twenty One Pilots! Also I love End Roll.

_Her bloodshot crimson eyes look up at him as her mouth mutters incoherently; big, crimson tears rolling down her scratched cheeks._

_"I...can't fly through the air, I am falling down...the stairs..." she weeps creeping across the floor, dragging her dead body closer to him._

_The dreamer can feel his knees getting weak the more he looks at her because he remembers, he can't forget, no matter how much he wants to, he can't._

_"Happy birthday, happy birth..day..." He can't._

_No longer able to stand the sight in front of him, he turns away, letting his legs bring him God knows where. He doesn't want to be here. Anywhere but here._

_Suddenly, the scenario changes, and he can't see anything. It's dark, the only source of light being the pale and round moon._  
He has a tank in his left hand and his usual poker face on as he pours the gasoline on the long and dry vines sourrounding the church he used to go to.  
He tries to throw the tank away, but he can't. The dreamer can only watch as his own body lights a match against his will and throws it four feets away from him - then, all he sees is fiery red. He feels himself smile just a little. 

_"Brother, it hurts.....hurts, oh God....bro...ther...." A voice._

_"Sister! I need...to fi...nd her, I...need....the fire's...." Another voice._

_The boy can hear them. They're angry, sad, miserable, desperate for each other._

_He tries to lunge forward, help them, do something; but then, everything disappears once again._

_Distant and squeaky voices are now sourrounding him, chanting._

_"We know what you did to him!"_

_"We were watching..."_

_"Don't look...heehee"_

_But he looks, he can't help himself._

_Oh, how he wishes to have control over his body as he grips big brother's smoky and soft black hair and smashes his head on the metallic and rusted bars of the monkeys' cage repeatedly, ignoring his pained and agonizing screams._

_He feels his heart racing - what has he done? -, there's blood everywhere._

_Splattered on his hands, shirt, pants, even his own hair now, because he's been gripping it and pulling it with his bloodied hands; sobbing uncontrollably, regretting, regretting, regretting everything he'd done.  
He screams until his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts, but he doesn't care._

_The boy's left all alone in the darkness once again._

_Then, he sees a silhouette._

No, stay away.

_After recognizing the person his whole body freezes, and he looks at them, terrified of what he'll do this time._

You're my friend.

_The dreamer backs away a little, but the figure doesn't stop coming closer._

I don't want to hurt you too.

_And closer._

I don't want to.

_They're face to face now. He breathes heavily._

I don't-

He doesn't move away when his friend's cold hands are on his neck, blocking the oxygen from entering his lungs.  
The boy starts gasping for air as dots begin to cloud his vision, but then he forcefully shuts his mouth, realizing that he deserves all of it.  
_"Yeah, you do,"_ the other says tightening his grip, venom dripping from every word.  
The blond closes his eyes, and his arms fall limply to his sides.

Then, he was gone.

 

"--sell! Russell!"

The dreamer opens his eyes, gasping for air, feeling tears run down his cold cheeks.

His head is pounding, and his friend's shouting is not helping at all.

As soon as the brunette notices his groans, however, he stops shaking his shoulders. He's sitting crosslegged on the chair near his hospital bed silently, looking at him with worry.

"You okay, buddy?"

He nods, wiping his wet eyes with the heels of his cold hands.

"You sure...? Didn't seem havin' a good time there. You were crying in your sleep...Screamin' their names."

He stops in his tracks, looking down with his hands on his lap. He doesn't want to face their ghosts, not now.

"Y'know, uh," Chris speaks softly taking his trembling (when did he start shaking so much?) hands in his, as if he were afraid to scare him, "I'm not good at these things, but uhm...you can rely on me, yeah? If ya need someone to talk to, I'll always listen..."

The brunette looks away, embarassed at his cringy and oh-so-cheesy speech, and the dreamer's heart aches at his friend's worry.

He can only imagine Chris' shocked face when the doctors told him about his attempt at taking his own life with a syringe.

He squeezes his friend's warm hands a little, as to say 'I know, and I'm glad for it', and Chris looks up at him with sadness swirling in his eyes but a smile on his face.

"Thank you...Chris." Russell whispers, showing a small smile. He really was grateful for having someone like Chris at his side.


End file.
